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Dau hu non hapSteamed silken tofu

Steamed silken tofu is a fast, gentle dish cooked in homes from Hanoi to Saigon, especially on vegetarian days at the start and middle of the lunar month, when many families eat chay. A whole block of silken tofu is steamed until wobbling and hot, then topped with sizzling spring onion oil, a light soy dressing, chilli and crisp fried shallots. It is soft and savoury, and goes with rice and a stir-fried green. Each portion has about 150 kcal and roughly 10 g of protein, from the silken tofu, so it is a light dish rather than a high-protein one. The common mistake is turning the block out roughly so it cracks; slide it gently onto the plate. Chef's tip: pour off the water that gathers on the plate after steaming, or it thins the sauce.

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Hoa quả dầm (Hanoi fruit cup with yoghurt and condensed milk)

On sticky summer afternoons, Hanoi's young people pack the little stools along streets near Hoàn Kiếm Lake for hoa quả dầm, a cup of diced fruit buried in crushed ice, plain yoghurt and condensed milk. The fruit follows the season, usually mango, papaya, jackfruit, dragon fruit and avocado, and the whole thing is stirred together before eating, so it turns cold, creamy, tangy and sweet at once. Serve it immediately, with a long spoon and toasted coconut on top if you like. No cooking and no egg here: condensed milk and yoghurt dress and bind the fruit, and the crushed ice chills it, so there is nothing to set. Chef's tip: dice everything to the same small size, about 1.5 cm, so each spoonful gets a mix; the common mistake is adding the ice too early, which melts and floods the cup before it reaches the table.

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Fideos con mantecaButtered noodles with cheese

Ask anyone from Buenos Aires to Córdoba what they ate when they came home late or felt poorly as a child, and the answer is often fideos con manteca: short pasta tossed with butter and a snowfall of grated queso rallado. It is the plainest dish in the Argentine home kitchen and the one people cook for themselves on a tired weeknight. The mistake that ruins it is draining the pasta bone-dry and adding cold cheese to a hot empty pan, which leaves greasy strands and clumps; a splash of cooking water makes a light, creamy coating instead. Argentine reggianito and Parmesan are made with animal rennet, so use a vegetarian hard cheese if needed. Chef's tip: grate the cheese very finely, like dust, so it melts on contact.

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Bánh mì ốp la (Vietnamese fried eggs with baguette)

All over Saigon and Hanoi, street stalls serve bánh mì ốp la for breakfast: two or three eggs fried in a little iron pan, brought to the table sizzling, with a split baguette for scooping and a splash of dark seasoning sauce on top. The whites go lacy and crisp at the edges while the yolks stay soft, and the cucumber and chilli on the side keep it fresh. The usual mistake is frying the eggs on a fierce heat until the bottoms burn before the whites on top have set; a medium heat and a lid fix that. For pregnant people, young children, older or vulnerable people, cook the yolks until fully set. Chef's tip: warm the baguette in a hot oven for 3 minutes first so the crust shatters the way it does at the stall.

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Nước rau máPennywort juice

Saigon street carts blend nước rau má to order through the hottest part of the afternoon, pouring the bright green juice into plastic cups over crushed ice for office workers and students. Pennywort (rau má) tastes fresh, grassy and very slightly bitter, and southerners drink it to 'cool the body' in the dry season; some stalls blend in cooked mung beans or a splash of coconut milk to make it richer. Look for bunches of rau má in Vietnamese and South Asian grocers, where it is also sold as gotu kola. Chef's tip: strain twice through a fine cloth and drink it within the hour; left standing, it separates and darkens to a dull khaki.

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Cà phê muốiSalt coffee

A family café in Huế's citadel quarter began topping its coffee with salted cream, and now cà phê muối is served across central Vietnam and in trendy cafés in Saigon and Hanoi. Sip it without stirring: first the cool, faintly salty cream, then sweet condensed milk and strong phin coffee, the salt rounding off the bitterness much like a pinch in caramel. It is good hot or poured over ice. Chef's tip: use only a small pinch of salt per glass; too much and the drink tastes like seawater rather than salted caramel.

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Cà phê trứngEgg coffee

Hanoi's old-quarter cafés, up narrow stairs and in tiny back rooms, serve cà phê trứng in a small cup set in a bowl of hot water so it stays warm while you spoon through the custardy foam into bitter coffee below. The topping is egg yolk whisked with condensed milk until pale and thick, a trick that began when fresh milk was scarce in the 1940s. Because the yolk is not cooked, use pasteurised eggs for pregnant women, young children, older people or anyone with a weakened immune system. Chef's tip: whisk longer than you think; under-beaten yolk tastes eggy and sinks straight into the coffee instead of sitting on top.

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Bắp xào (stir-fried corn)

Outside Saigon schools in the late afternoon, vendors toss corn kernels in a huge, sizzling pan and scoop them into paper cups for children on their way home. The kernels glisten with butter and green scallion oil and taste sweet, salty and faintly smoky. The street version often adds tiny dried shrimp; this one leaves them out so it is vegetarian, and a pinch of chilli flakes is there for grown-ups. Chef's tip: get the pan very hot and spread the corn out; crowding it steams the kernels instead of giving them toasty, caramelised spots.

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Ei im GlasSoft-boiled eggs in a glass

In the old coffee houses of Vienna, the breakfast menu still lists Ei im Glas: two very soft-boiled eggs, scooped warm from their shells into a small glass, with a knob of butter, chives, salt and pepper. You stir it into a golden, custardy mess and eat it with a crisp Semmel roll (gluten-free bread if you need it) and a Melange coffee. The mistake almost everyone makes is boiling the eggs a minute too long, so the yolk sets and the dish turns into plain egg salad. Chef's tip: warm the glass with hot water while the eggs cook, so the butter melts on contact and the eggs stay hot to the last spoonful.

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Martín FierroCheese with quince paste

Ask for dessert in a Montevideo bodegón or a country parador and you may be offered a Martín Fierro: a thick slice of fresh, mild cheese laid with an equal slice of dense quince or sweet-potato paste, named after the gaucho of the epic poem. It's salty against sweet, soft against firm, and takes two minutes to assemble. Uruguayan fresh cheese is usually made with animal rennet, so choose one with vegetarian rennet if that matters to you. The mistake is serving it fridge-cold, which dulls both flavours. Chef's tip: cut the cheese and paste to exactly the same thickness, about 1 cm, so every bite has both.

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TereréIced yerba mate

In Asunción the hottest part of the day stops for tereré: a horn or cup packed with yerba mate, topped up again and again with ice water infused with crushed herbs, and passed round the group through a metal straw. It was recognised by UNESCO as part of Paraguay's cultural heritage, and the herbs (yuyos) change with the season and the drinker's mood. Yerba mate contains caffeine, so it isn't one for small children. The common mistake is pouring water straight into loose yerba, which then clogs the straw; tilt the yerba to one side first. Chef's tip: for tereré ruso, swap the water for cold orange or grapefruit juice.

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EinspännerBlack coffee with whipped cream

The Einspänner is named after the one-horse carriages of old Vienna: coachmen waiting outside in winter supposedly liked their coffee under a lid of cream that kept it hot and stopped it slopping. Today it is served in a handled glass at classic coffee houses, a strong black mocha (a double espresso or Großer Brauner without milk) topped with a thick layer of cold, lightly sweetened whipped cream and a pinch of icing sugar. You do not stir it: you sip the hot, bitter coffee through the cold, sweet cream, so each mouthful is two temperatures and two textures. It is an afternoon or late-morning coffee, often with a slice of Sachertorte. The common mistake is runny cream that sinks and turns the drink into a milky latte; whip it until it just holds a peak and spoon it on gently so it floats. It is ready when the cream stands at least 2 cm above the coffee and slowly sinks at the edges. It is strong: a double shot of caffeine in one glass. Chef's tip: pour the coffee in first and wait ten seconds before adding the cream, so the crema settles and helps support the cap.

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Chilcano de piscoPisco and ginger ale highball

When Lima's grey winter finally lifts and summer reaches the beaches south of the city, the chilcano takes over from the pisco sour: lighter, longer and made for an afternoon. Peru even gives it a Semana del Chilcano each January, and it is poured at weekend lunches with chifa or fried fish. This is a highball for adults only: pisco poured over a tall glass of ice with fresh lime and ginger ale, finished with a few drops of bitters. It should taste crisp and fizzy, with the ginger and lime lifting the floral grape notes of the pisco rather than hiding them. The common mistake is using too little ice and warm ginger ale, which gives a sweet, diluted drink that goes flat in minutes. Fill the glass to the top with ice and keep the ginger ale in the fridge until the last second. It is ready when the glass is frosty, the bubbles race up the sides and the bitters drift through the top as a pink haze. Light it may be, but drink responsibly. Chef's tip: try a fruit-infused pisco, made by steeping passion fruit or mandarin peel in the bottle for a few days; Limeños love a chilcano de maracuyá.

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Rau sốngFresh herb and vegetable plate

Rau sống, literally 'raw vegetables', is the heaped plate of lettuce, herbs and cucumber that sits in the middle of the table at almost every Vietnamese meal, from Hanoi bún chả to a Saigon family dinner. Everyone tears leaves to wrap grilled food, drops herbs into soup or eats them alongside rice. Nothing is added: no salt, no dressing. About 0.1 g salt per portion, naturally present in the greens. Seasoning comes from whatever dipping sauce is on the table, so a light hand there keeps the whole meal low in salt. The usual mistake is leaving the herbs wet; water dilutes the flavour and makes them wilt fast. Use whatever mix you can find: Thai basil, perilla (tía tô), Vietnamese balm (kinh giới), mint and coriander are classics. Chef's tip: soak the herbs in very cold water for 10 minutes, then spin dry; they become crisp and glossy and last through the whole meal.

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Mate de muñaAndean mint tea

Muña is the minty shrub that grows wild on the slopes around Cusco, Puno and the Sacred Valley, and highland cooks reach for it after a heavy meal of chicharrón or when visitors are struggling with the altitude. Market herb sellers sell it in fresh bunches, and hotels and homes leave it in a flask for anyone coming in from the cold evenings. Steeped simply in hot water, it smells somewhere between spearmint, oregano and pennyroyal, with a cooling, slightly peppery taste and a pale green-gold colour. It is traditionally drunk to settle the stomach. The usual mistake is boiling the leaves hard for a long time, which turns the tea brown and bitter. Pour water just off the boil over the sprigs, cover, and let it steep. It is ready when the cup is pale gold and the aroma rises as soon as you lift the lid. Outside Peru, look for dried muña in Latin shops; failing that, use mostly spearmint with a little fresh oregano. Muña is strong: avoid large amounts in pregnancy, and check with a doctor if you take regular medication. Chef's tip: cover the cup while it steeps so the scented oils stay in the tea.

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Jugo de macaWarm maca drink

Before dawn at markets in Huancayo, Cusco and Lima, juice ladies ladle hot jugo de maca from big pots for workers on their way in: maca root, a turnip relative grown above 4,000 metres in the Junín highlands, simmered with milk, cinnamon and cloves and sweetened with honey or sugar. It tastes malty and toasty, a bit like butterscotch. The common mistake is stirring the powder straight into hot milk, which leaves gritty lumps; whisk it into a little cold milk first. Maca is not usually advised in pregnancy, so ask your doctor first if you are pregnant. Chef's tip: use gelatinised (cooked) maca powder if you can find it; it dissolves smoothly and is gentler on the stomach.

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Trà sen (lotus tea)

Every June and July, before sunrise, boats slip between the pink lotus on Hanoi's West Lake to gather flowers for trà sen. The finest lotus tea is made by stripping the tiny white rice-like anthers from hundreds of blooms and layering them with green tea, a labour that makes it one of Vietnam's most expensive gifts, kept for Tết. Families do a simpler version at home: a spoon of Thái Nguyên green tea is tucked into the heart of a fresh flower in the evening, the petals closed and tied, and by morning the leaves have taken on a sweet, creamy, slightly vanilla-like perfume. It is brewed in a small clay pot and drunk in tiny cups in the early morning. The common mistake is brewing with boiling water, which flattens the lotus scent and makes the green tea bitter. Rinse the leaves quickly and brew at 80–85 °C. It is ready when the cup is pale gold and the steam smells of flowers before tea. No fresh lotus? Buy ready-made lotus-scented tea from Vietnamese shops and start at the brewing step. Chef's tip: pick a bud that is just about to open; a fully open bloom has already lost its scent.

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Jugo surtidoMixed fruit juice

Step up to any juguería in Lima's Mercado de Surquillo or a barrio market at breakfast time and order a surtido: the juicer drops papaya, banana, pineapple and freshly squeezed orange into a tall blender, sometimes a slice of cooked beetroot for colour or a splash of milk, and pours you a big glass with the rest left in the jug for your 'yapa', the free refill. It is thick but still pourable, sweet from ripe fruit with a sharp orange edge, the kind of drink that stands in for breakfast before a long day. The common mistake is adding lots of ice and water, which makes it thin and frothy rather than velvety. Use cold fruit and freshly squeezed orange juice as the liquid. It is ready when it coats the glass and no lumps of banana are left. This version is fruit only; stalls also make it with milk if you prefer. Drink it straight away: papaya and banana go brown and bitter within half an hour. Chef's tip: use very ripe papaya with orange flesh; under-ripe papaya tastes of nothing and gives a faintly bitter aftertaste.

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Cà phê cốt dừa (coconut coffee)

Hanoi takes its coffee seriously, and in the last fifteen years coconut coffee has become one of the city's signatures, sold from Old Quarter cafés, lakeside balconies around Hoàn Kiếm and tiny stools on the pavement. It is a hot-weather drink, at its best on a sticky afternoon between May and September, eaten half with a spoon. Strong Vietnamese robusta drips slowly through an aluminium phin, then is poured over a pale slush of thick coconut cream, sweetened condensed milk and crushed ice, so you get bitter, dark coffee against something rich and cold that tastes like coconut ice cream. The common mistake is blending the slush too long or with too much ice, which leaves it thin and watery, and pouring the coffee in boiling hot so the slush collapses. Blend just until it looks like soft snow, and let the coffee cool for a minute or two. It is ready when the slush holds a spoon upright and the coffee sits in a dark layer on top. Robusta is high in caffeine and this is a strong drink, so it is not for children and one glass is plenty. Chef's tip: chill the coconut cream overnight; cold, thick cream gives a fluffier slush.

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Trà chanhIced lime tea

On warm evenings the pavement beside St Joseph's Cathedral in Hanoi fills with rows of tiny plastic stools, and nearly everyone is holding a tall glass of trà chanh, cheap green tea poured over ice with a squeeze of lime and plenty of sugar, sipped with a saucer of sunflower seeds while the city's scooters roar past. It is sharp, sweet and very refreshing. Chef's tip: brew the tea in water just off the boil, around 80 °C; boiling water makes green tea bitter.

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Refresco de coconaCocona cooler

In Iquitos, Pucallpa and the river towns of Loreto, heat and humidity make a cold refresco part of every lunch, and cocona is one of the favourites sold from plastic jugs at the Belén market. The fruit looks like a fuzzy orange tomato and tastes between tomato, lemon and apricot: very sour, aromatic and juicy. Blended with water and sugar it makes a tangy, golden drink with a light pulp, served with juane or tacacho con cecina. The usual mistake is skipping the fuzz: cocona skin is covered in fine hairs that make the drink scratchy, so rub them off under running water before you start. Blend only briefly, too, so the many seeds do not crack. It is ready when the refresco is opaque orange, sour first and sweet after, with no grit. Outside the Amazon, look for frozen cocona pulp in Latin American shops; naranjilla (lulo) pulp is the closest substitute. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt makes the fruit taste sweeter and fruitier without more sugar.

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Pisco sour

Lima drinks its pisco sour as the aperitif before a long ceviche lunch, and celebrates it every year on the first Saturday of February; the recipe took shape in the city's bars in the 1920s. It is for adults only and stronger than its pillowy look suggests. Underneath a thick white foam you get sharp Peruvian lime, a clean sweetness and the floral, grapey warmth of quebranta pisco, with the bitters adding a spicy smell to every sip. The texture should be silky, almost creamy, never thin. The classic mistake is squeezing the limes too hard or too early: the oil from the pith turns the drink bitter within half an hour. Halve the limes, press each half gently by hand just before mixing and stop when the juice slows. The egg white is raw, so use pasteurised egg white for anyone pregnant, for babies, older people or anyone unwell, or swap in 30 ml aquafaba. It is ready when the foam stands about 1 cm high and is firm enough to hold the drops of bitters on its surface. Sip one slowly and drink responsibly. Chef's tip: shake once without ice first to whip the egg white, then again with ice; the foam will be twice as thick.

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Cocido quemadoBurnt sugar mate drink

Cocido is how Paraguay starts the day: in Asunción, in the villages of Guairá and Itapúa, and in school kitchens, a pot of burnt yerba is brewed and poured into cups with chipa, the cheesy cassava bread, or with a hard galleta. The old way is to drop a glowing piece of charcoal into a pot with yerba and sugar and stir until the sugar burns. On a home stove you caramelise them together in a dry pan instead, which is safer and gives the same smoky, toffee-like taste. The drink is clear amber-brown, with roasted, slightly bitter mate notes over burnt-sugar sweetness; with milk added it becomes cocido con leche, creamy and coffee-coloured. Yerba mate contains caffeine, so treat it like a cup of coffee. The common mistake is letting the sugar go black: it turns acrid and bitter. Pull it off the heat when the caramel is deep amber and the yerba smells toasted, not burnt. It is ready when the liquid is a clear dark amber and tastes of toffee and smoke. Chef's tip: the water will spit fiercely when it hits the hot caramel, so pour it in from the side, at arm's length.

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Wiener MelangeCoffee with milk and foam

In Vienna you never simply order 'a coffee'; you order by name, and the Melange is the one most Viennese ask for. It arrives in a large cup on a small silver tray with a glass of water and often a tiny chocolate, and you may sit over it for an hour with the newspapers at Café Prückel or Hawelka, mid-morning or after lunch. Traditionally it is a mild, longer espresso (a Verlängerter) with roughly equal hot milk and a soft cap of milk foam; it is gentler than a cappuccino and the foam is looser and creamier. Expect a round, nutty, slightly sweet cup with little bitterness. The common mistake is overheating the milk: once it passes about 70 °C it smells cooked and loses its sweetness and the foam turns big-bubbled and dry. Stop when the jug is too hot to hold for more than a second or two. It is ready when the foam sits in a smooth, glossy dome about a finger thick and the coffee shows as a brown ring at the edge. One cup has about the caffeine of a single espresso. Chef's tip: always serve the glass of water alongside, as Vienna does; it is drunk first to clear the palate.

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